The Books
by Cat in the Window
Summary: Dean discovers a little something in the trunk of the Impala. Maybe he was a little quick to jump to conclusions this time. - Tag to Southern Comfort (sort of). Season Eight.


So, I have a love-hate relationship going on with this season. The hate part comes from the mess that is the Sam/Dean incredibly-out-of-character relationship. It's like the codependency, which is a literally established part of their characters, is gone. And in the recent episodes they're never on screen together and Sam seems to have been pushed off as more of a side character in most episodes. Obviously I'm kind of annoyed.

Anyway, I know this idea's been done to death, but I got an idea in my head and want to write it out.

Disclaimer: _Supernatural _doesn't belong to me. Unfortunately.

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"The Books"

Dean's leaning against the trunk of his car drinking a beer while Sam's inside the hotel room, both trying to cool off after the incident with the specter. Even though he's no longer possessed, he's definitely still pissed and now looking for something to distract himself with. Lately they've been either fighting or ignoring each other, something neither of them are particularly enjoying. Getting desperate to do something other than stay trapped in his own thoughts, he turns around and pops the trunk. Inside are the normal assortments of things, but this parking lot is deserted with no cameras around, so maybe he'll just clean a gun or two. Something they haven't touched in a while that'll need a lot of -

Then, he sees them. Those stupid _Supernatural _books they bought ages ago in the comic shop. The sight of them almost makes him slam the trunk shut again, but he notices they look thinner than the last time he saw them. Noticeably so. And they're just there, wedged in the corner at the bottom of the weapons pile and he figures finding out whether or not he's imagining things counts as a good enough distraction. From inside the hotel room, he hears no noise.

He opens the first book and it takes him all of two seconds to see what's wrong.

Where the prologue should be is gone, the pages very neatly torn out. Most of chapter one is too and the new first page is riddled with pen marks. He remembers this too, standing outside Sam's Stanford apartment with the trunk open just like now, explaining what was happening with Dad and the Jericho case. Except, this wasn't really it at all because whole sentences were carefully crossed out so no words were visible, as were the quotation marks around anything he said, making them more like thoughts than an actual conversation. Plural pronouns were crossed out too outside of the old dialogue, singular males one rewritten above.

Confused, he flips through the rest of the book and finds most of it looks the same, while parts like him talking to the cops or getting stuck in that interrogation room are kept mostly untouched. There are a few more sections completely torn out. All in all, the book's been cut down at least sixty pages and by the time he sees the ended it just gone, everything but the last page where the majority is crossed out and the only part written is _And 'he' left California behind 'him_' that he realizes there's no evidence of Sam anywhere.

He drops the book and goes for the second one. Same result. Third, fourth, fifth - all filled with torn out pages and crossed out sentences. Chuck's new books are here too, the ones that covered the Apocalypse and they're no different. Even his brother letting Lucifer possess him and jump into the Cage is completely removed. The handwriting on the pronoun changes is obviously Sam's and the adjustments are so meticulously done that it really could be read as if Dean was off traveling on his own. Like Lucifer's vessel and Azazel's number one bet don't really exist and are just some term the demons are using.

And it isn't just that Sam's gone, either. There are other little tweaks too, like what Famine said to him. It's obliterated by ink. Most of the depressing shit and adjectives are missing, causing it to be read more like a textbook than a badly written novel. The book that would've covered Dean's little side trip to the future is missing completely and the one most intact is titled _Free to be You and Me, _which apparently covers their time apart.

For a while he's lost in thought, sitting on the dirty pavement of the parking lot and ripping through the books again to find even a hint that Sam exists, but his privacy is shattered the moment another car pulls in. He stands up quickly, turning around so his body hides the contents of his trunk and quickly gathers the books in his arms before shutting his car. He knows he must look a little weird, carrying a stack of books towards a motel room at two in the morning, but he doesn't care.

Fishing out the room key with an arm full of books is difficult, but he manages. The lights are off and Sam's in bed, the pillow pressed over his head like he used to do when Dad snored or last year when -

"Sammy?" His brother doesn't answer and by now he's getting really, really worried. Crossed out book. Covering his ears to muffle sound. Has Dean even seen him sleep since he got back? As he takes a seat near his brother's side, he repeats, "Sammy?"

After a moment, his brother peeks out from under the pillow, looking both ancient and five at the same time. "I'm sorry," he says and Dean wants to hit him just for apologizing. "Did I wake you up?"

"What? No, I've been outside. Were you just sleeping?"

"I was trying to."

Good enough. The books are on the small table and he knows that if Sam falls asleep, he'll lose all nerve to do this tomorrow. He reaches over and turns on the light. "We've got talk," he says and those he three of his lease favorite words in the English language when paired together. Sam opens his mouth, but he cuts him off with, "And it's not about what you think it is."

He stands and Sam follows. "What's this about?" he asks and Dean can't figure out how to word it, so he picks up that first book and throws it at his brother. "What's this got to do with anything?"

Oh, fucking peachy. It's going to be one of _those _conversations. "I'm talk about you writing yourself out of -" Mid-sentence he stops because if anything his brother looks more confused than anything else. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

His brother doesn't answer, instead flipping the cover open. "What happened?" he says before suddenly dropping it, covering his ears with his hands, eyes screwing shut. Dean's already at his side, hand on his shoulder when Sam finally open his eyes and lowers his arms. His face is drained of color. "D-did -"

"From the looks of it, yeah," Dean answers, though the books have officially fallen into a secondary concern. He pushes Sam back a little, forces him to sit on the end of bed but he's not looking at him anymore, eyes focused somewhere over his shoulder. "Hey, Sam, pay attention."

Now he just looks scared as his gaze slides back to Dean. He'd suspected the moment he saw the books and should've seen it earlier - the insomnia, how vaguely he talks about his past year, the fact that Sam avoiding eye contact never had to do with looking down at the floor but across the room or off to the side. But he hasn't seen the scar used once and that would've been the biggest tip off.

He continues, "Are you seeing him again? And _don't _lie, that's your handwriting and most people don't try to shut their ears off in moments of silence."

For a moment, he doesn't say anything. Then: "It's not like last time!"

"Jesus Christ." He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to gather himself so he doesn't snap and make this worse. He's not a complete idiot; if Sam's having flashbacks, there's a possibility he isn't sure whether or not that fight had been real. "Okay. Fine. What do you mean?"

Sam fidgets. "I mean, that's it like seeing through the cracks or whatever," he answers. "It's more like - I don't know, normal crazy. PTSD or schizophrenia or something."

Dean sunk down on the bed next to him, trying not show that he's shaking. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asks.

"You just got back from Purgatory, Dean. You asked, I hesitated, you assumed and it was easier. The hallucinations haven't been as bad with you here, pissed at me or not."

"Until today."

"Yeah."

This is not happening. There was no way this can be happening. "And the books?" he says. "Or do you honestly not remember doing that?"

His brother bites his bottom lip. "I think I hit my head or something," he answers, sounding doubtful. "One minute I was leaving Sucrocorp and next thing I knew, I was waking up in the Impala not far away from there with dried blood on the side of my head. Three days had gone by. They're completely blank. Then Lucifer came back. He - uh, it - is now reminding that I was using those CVS gel pens we keep in the trunk for when we want to look professional."

Even though he knows he should've seen this coming years ago, it still hurts to hear. But the truth is that a person can only take so many hits to the head before something goes a little off and his brother's already got a history with psychosis. "You, um," he says, not knowing how to put this, "sort of took yourself out of the story. And I mean completely. Your name's mentioned like three times."

"Oh."

"Oh? Seriously, man, that's all you're going to say?"

With a shrug, Sam says, "I barely remember doing it."

More than anything right now, he knows his brother needs to crash. Now that Dean's thinking about All the Signs That There's Something Wrong with Sammy, he really can't get in his head the last time he saw him sleep. But that doesn't seem to be on the table at the moment. "Okay," he says, surprised at himself for even thinking about this, "tomorrow we're calling Garth to see if he knows a psychiatrist that knows about all this shit."

Sam's eyes snap to him, as shocked as he feels. "A psychiatrist?" he repeats. "I - The mental ward didn't work last time."

"Yeah, but last time was supernatural crazy," he points out. "You said this is normal crazy and yeah, it'll be hard keeping up with it, but it's a better alternative than lying to me about seeing the Devil. I mean, God, if you'd _said _this is the reason why you hadn't hunted -"

"I did. Hunt, I mean. Or I tried to. I tried looking for you too." He looks back down. "But then - well, hunting when there's a voice in your head and no one around is hard enough. I had to stop looking for you and ditch the phones because I kept hearing my cell phone ring saying it was you and you were back but then - I'm sure you can guess."

Sam had hesitated on almost anything when they met up. Dean just thought he was feeling guilty. But he knows this kid better than anyone and _he missed this_. "Were you ever planning on telling me?"

With a nod, his brother answers, "I figured it would be easiest to just give you time to readjust and all. Then I found out about Benny and Cas came back and thought that as long as you have someone to fall back on, you wouldn't need -"

"Fuck, Sam, please tell me it's not you thinking this." No answer. "Son of a - I swear to God I will punch you if you're about to apologize again." Immediately, Sam shuts his mouth. "Okay, so do sleeping pills help?"

"Yeah."

He wants to get mad at his brother for lying, but he just can't because Sam was right. It was Dean who jumped to conclusions first and with all that fighting since then (and especially earlier) he never really got to opportunity to say anything. He stands and heads over to the duffle, rummaging around for sleeping pills. Tomorrow they're talking about everything - what his brother's actual last year's been like, the fact that the thing with Benny really _was _the specter talking because no matter what happened, no one can replace his little brother, how to deal with the possibility of normal people medication.

But for now Sam just needs sleep. And Dean does too.

After taking out two pills, he fills a glass of water and bring it over. "If you start having a nightmare, I'll wake you up," he says as Sam swallows down the meds. Even though he's planning on crashing too, he's pretty sure his brother's nightmares are noisy enough to snap him out of it. "And I'm not setting an alarm for tomorrow. You're sleeping as long as these last."

Suddenly his brother seems drained because he doesn't say anything, instead crawling back under the sheets and pulling the blankets almost over the head. Dean stays there for a moment, just watching his brother before standing. He catches sight of the book on the floor, then all the ones of the table.

Fuck it, they're burning those all tomorrow morning.

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I know it's weird, but the thought randomly occurred to me. Sorry for any mistakes. I'm mildly dyslexic and can't proofread very well.


End file.
